Black Bayou
by obeydontstray
Summary: (Revamped) Husky Harris hears an interesting local legend while bar hopping in Louisiana. But soon he'll find out that it isn't just a tall tale.
1. Bad Moon Rising

_**So this will be a short, possibly three chapter fic. And it's my Husky Harris transition to Bray Wyatt headcannon. All loosely based on the song Swamp Witch by Jim Stafford (a favorite song of mine since I was little). No romantic ocs like my other fics, no smut (sorry! lol) and hopefully as creepy as I can possibly make it. Anyway, leave me comments please? This chapter's just a warm up, I promise it's gonna get better! **_

"You guys go ahead. I'm just going to walk to the hotel when I'm done." Husky assured McGullicutty. "It's not that far. I can hoof it." He promised him before turning back to the bartender.

"So the swamp water made everyone sick?" Husky asked his new friend, rolling around the facts of the story in his head as his fingers traced the rim of his beer can.

"Well it had rained so much the swamp overflowed, and mosquitoes carried sickness through the entire town. Over half of the townspeople were on their death bed before she brought the cure." Benjamin repeated as he polished the old wooden bar.

"And the whole town just decided to drink this sludge that showed up in the town? I mean I wouldn't just drink some green concoction out of a washtub." Husky questioned, his interest in this local lore deepening.

"Well when your town is dying off, you'd be willing to try anything."

"I wouldn't drink the kool aid." He laughed, taking a swig of his beer.

"I hope you're never that desperate, son." Ben replied, his weathered old hands working diligently at polishing glasses.

"So were you sick? Did you have to drink any?"

Ben shook his head, crossing his chest. "No, thankfully I was spared. The sickness skipped my family. But we paid for it in the end."

"How you mean?" Husky asked, pushing his hair from his eyes as Ben slid him a fresh PBR. The bar was slowing to a crawl now that most of the other wrestlers had headed off to the hotel to rest up.

"Well once the town decided that Abigail was responsible for the cure, they gathered a search party to send into the swamp. She'd been an outcast for years. Parents made her into the local boogeyman. If you wandered into the woods alone, she'd snatch you up and stash you away in her ramshackled old house. They said she used little children in voodoo rituals and saved what was left of the remains for the gators. But once she saved the town, everyone decided she was a hero. Why, everything was just nasty rumors about the old woman. So they gathered a small group of young men to send into the swamp to fetch her."

"What happened?" Husky asked, impatient to get to the end of the tale.

"Five of the young men came back. Visibly shaken and without Abigail. The other two, my brother Luke and our closest neighbor never came back. They got separated from the group somehow and the others became so scared they stopped looking for them."

"What scared five grown men that badly?"

"The thing that keeps people out of the swamp till this day. The shadows."

Husky began laughing, slapping his palms against the counter. "Swamp gas, man?! You mean an entire town is spooked by swamp gas?!"

"It's not swamp gas. That light ain't natural! When you're in the pitch dark, so dark you can't see your hand in front of your face!, and suddenly there's shapes all around you that are somehow darker than that. Like infinitely darker. Hell, I'd make a break out of the swamp too!"

"So you let a bunch of shadows keep you from finding your brother?"

"I tried, I really did. But no one knew the swamps better than Luke. My brother was a master hunter. I think he just finally met his match out there in that swamp. Some dark spirit, or a monster alligator. All I know is Luke nor the big red headed kid from town haven't been seen in twenty years now."

"Demonic shadows. Swamp witches. Voodoo. Man, this town is too much!" Husky grinned, finishing off that last beer. "Well, thanks for the fairytale Benjamin. But I'd better get some shut eye." He announced, broadly grinning as he slid a twenty across the bar to the old man.

"Even if you don't believe me, be careful walking out there after dark, son." Husky shoved open the door to the ancient bar, reveling in the cool air that hit his flushed face. With alcohol blurred eyes he set off in the direction of the hotel, able to take reasonably stable steps after drinking enough cheap beer to float a battleship.

.

Halfway to the hotel Husky paused to take a leak in a ditch. And he was lazily zipping his fly when he seen it. A flicker of bright light, just in the corner of his vision. Another bright flash and a touch of the sweetest smell hanging in the air. "Is somebody there?" He slurred, his blue eyes surveying the dark woods. Out from behind a tree sprinted a dark shadow, passing right in front of him. "Who the hell are you? Quit fucking with me."


	2. Danger and Dread

Alone and, regrettably, lost in the swamp, Husky Harris gave up. He sat on a fallen cyprus tree and braced his head in his hands. The PBR, the lack of sleep the last few weeks, and the awful mood he'd harbored for days now cumulating into this awful sea-sick feeling. Mentally he kicked himself for wandering into this swamp anyway. So what if there was a light in the woods? In hindsight, what business was it of his anyway? He should be back at the hotel right now, listening to McGillicutty snore and trying to sleep off his own hangover so that he could resume his part as the Nexus's literal whipping boy tomorrow. He reached for his phone, but the battery had died hours ago. "I just wanna go home." He grumbled, hurling a loose rock against the bark of a nearby tree. "Fuck!"

An ominous chuckle nearby silenced his temper tantrum. Reaching for the knife in his boot, Husky jumped up quickly and watched the area around him for the source of the sound. "Don't you know boy? You are home!" Large hands grasp Husky's arms, dragging him backwards off of his feet and into a nearby cluster of underbrush.

.

Mike McGillicutty opened one eye warily, glancing towards the bed across from him. "Husky?" He breathed, unwilling to lean up and look the other man in the face. But when silence answered him, he forced himself to raise his head. "Husky you shithead, are you asleep? Hey fat ass!" He taunted the darkness, sure that would get a rise out of Husky.

When there was no answer, Mike swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head swimming. "Husky you fuck." He mumbled, taking wary steps across the carpet. But it startled him to find his friend's bed empty, the sheets still properly made. Husky hadn't made it back yet? Ah hell. Who knows. Maybe the bastard got lucky. Every dog has his day, right?

Husky awoke in darkness, his head throbbing. Reaching up he could feel warm blood on his scalp, the large man that ambushed him had hit him with a heavy object. He squinted in the darkness around him, trying to find anything to focus on. There were no shadows,no outlines of furniture. Just complete, oppressive darkness and the humidity of the summer night. Before he could really begin to panic, a sliver of yellow light cracked the darkness briefly before the wooden door was swung open, banging off the wall next to it. The large shadow of a man filled the doorframe, letting the weak light lighten up the dark interior of the barren room. Then the figure advanced, closing the door behind him and plunging them back into darkness, and Husky readied himself for a fight. He reached for his trusty pocket knife but to no avail, he'd been disarmed. The large man reached for him and he fought back as best he could, swinging blindly in the dark.

Mike paced their hotel room, trying in vain to call Husky's cell. When he couldn't het an answer he went to the next room, banging on the door and waking up a groggy' but sober, Heath Slater. "Husky is missing. We gotta go find him, man." Heath made a face and turned to glance at his alarm clock.

"It's four in the morning Mike! I'm not leaving this hotel room."

"But what if something happened to him?" Heath sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Some girl probably got drunk enough to take him home. Just go back to bed man. He'll probably be back in the morning, bragging about getting laid."


End file.
